


The Bubble Tea Incident

by jane_x80



Category: NCIS
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony brings bubble tea in to the bullpen, resulting in a disastrous head slap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I love bubble smoothies rather than bubble tea, but seriously sometimes it's really hard to suck those tapioca pearls up through the straw. This is how I imagine Gibbs would act if Tony were to be sucking on bubble tea in the bullpen. :)
> 
> I'm definitely working on a second chapter of this 2-part story. Stay tuned!

It all started with bubble tea. You know. The kind you get at an Asian restaurant. It could be some kind of fruity or floral tea (chrysanthemum tea, jasmine tea, peach tea, what have you) with little pearls of tapioca which are the bubbles in the tea. It could also be some kind of fruit smoothie with the tapioca bubbles. But either way, it involves a lot of work sucking the bubbles and the beverage up through an inordinately large straw.

After Bishop, Tony and McGee had lunch at a near-by Vietnamese restaurant, Tony DiNozzo (who apparently loves bubble tea) orders one to go, and begins drinking his tea as they walk back together to the Navy Yard. The bubble tea contains fairly large sized tapioca bubbles and prove to be difficult to draw up the large straw. He laughs to himself every time he successfully manages to suck a pearl up through the straw and chews on the soft pillows happily. Bishop and McGee merely shake their heads in gentle amusement at Tony’s open display of joy at his interactive beverage.

Things change however, when they return to the bullpen. There is still over half of the bubble tea left and Tony keeps working on it while they review cold case files. Gibbs has been sitting at his desk, glaring at his team, and especially at Tony for a while, although whenever Tony looks over quizzically at him, he averts his blue eyes and does not say a word.

Refusing to let his spirit be crushed or his bubbles burst (ha!), Tony continues to suck on the large straw, his lips contorting, his cheeks dimpling as he maneuvers the straw around, having to suck really hard sometimes to un-block the straw. He contains his laughter for each successful suck, although his green eyes twinkle happily. Occasionally, a tapioca bubble comes unstuck and flies into his mouth so quickly that tea splatters out of his mouth, and he has to work hard to contain the snorts of laughter that accompany this.

Gibbs stands up abruptly after a snort of amusement is not stifled in time, and Tony freezes, guilt flashing through his face. Gibbs glares at him, and silently walks away in the direction of the break room.

“Shut up, Tony,” McGee hisses at him, “Gibbs is going to kill you!”

“I’m not going to let him spoil my enjoyment of my bubble tea,” Tony says mutinously. “This is the first quiet day we’ve had in two weeks and I’m going to friggin’ drink my bubble tea and laugh if I want to.”

“Well you better hurry up and be finished with it soon before you get us all in trouble.”

Tony pouts at McGee and resumes drinking the bubble tea. Bishop cannot help but laugh at the fun that Tony is obviously having drinking tea. He grins at her while McGee laughingly yells, “Don’t encourage him, Bishop!”

And then, just in the span of a half-second, Tony’s attention is drawn to the cold case file open on his desk. He ignores McGee and Bishop who are still ribbing him, and zones in to the detail that had jumped out at him. Absently he begins typing one-handed, keeping the other hand on the see-through plastic cup. He begins fiddling with the cup with his fingertips, and playing with the straw with his lips and tongue as his eyes dance over the information on his computer screen. He spreads out the papers in the folder onto his desk, flipping through them slowly as his brain kicks into overdrive. He is completely unaware of everything but the papers on his desk and the information that he keeps pulling up on his computer screen.

He begins worrying the fat, red, straw with his teeth, and when it slips out of his mouth, he chases it with his lips and tries to hook it back into his mouth with his tongue. The tip of the chewed-out straw makes it that much more difficult to suck a bubble up through it. Still completely unaware of his surroundings, Tony gnaws on the tip of the straw to try to re-shape it and sucks hard trying to dislodge a tapioca bubble that has gotten stuck two-thirds up the way of the straw.

And then it happens.

Tony sucks hard enough that the bubble flies into his mouth, and at the same time Gibbs delivers a headslap to the back of his head, a really hard one.

As Tony had been so engrossed in his cold case, Gibbs has managed to completely surprise him with the headslap. The tapioca bubble goes down wrong and Tony begins coughing explosively, struggling to draw breath, turning white and beginning to wheeze. Gibbs watches him, at first thinking that Tony is exaggerating and trying to draw a reaction out of him, but when he sees the stark lack of color in the younger man’s face, the tears leaking from his eyes, fingers clawing at his throat with one hand and grasping the edge of his desk in a white-knuckled grip with the other, he realizes that Tony is actually choking. He begins pounding Tony’s back, employing the same hard thwacks that he had been taught to do when Tony had been recovering from the plague and had needed to clear his chest of phlegm and fluids, wondering when he should attempt the Heimlich maneuver.

Luckily the bubble dislodges itself during one of Tony’s lung-clearing coughs and the younger man is finally able to draw in oxygen. His breaths come in worryingly loud wheezes and he rests his forehead on the edge of his desk, trying to slow his heartrate and take smaller shallower breaths rather than the painful big wheezing gasping breaths that is bound to make him pass out if he’s not careful.

After a minute, his breathing calms somewhat, blood stops pounding in his ears and his heart rate slows down a little, and he realizes that Gibbs is now rubbing his back soothingly. He can still hear the loud wheezes that is his breathing. He shakes off Gibbs’ hand, dives for his backpack and with shaky hands pulls out his rescue inhaler. In an act that no one but medical professionals have witnessed since Tony’s tango with the pneumonic plague, Tony openly and greedily sucks in multiple puffs of the inhaler, and gradually the wheezing becomes softer. Tony is sweating profusely and he scrabbles to loosen his tie and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, his fingers feeling thick and uncoordinated all of a sudden.

He feels completely shaken. His chest and lungs hurt, his throat is raw, and he feels the tendrils of a bad migraine beginning to take hold.

Bishop and McGee are standing around him and Gibbs has resumed rubbing his back.

“Easy there, DiNozzo. Breathe,” Gibbs whispers softly in his ear, making Tony have flashbacks of blue lights and for a second he thinks he smells Kate’s perfume.

Finally, when Tony’s heart rate begins approaching normal and his breaths come in short, wheezy pants, he shrugs Gibbs’ hand off him.

“I’m fine,” he says, his voice raspy.

Clutching his inhaler like a lifeline, he pulls himself to his feet and shakily staggers to the men’s room. Gibbs keeps his eyes on him until he disappears behind the men’s room door, then stands up. McGee looks angry, and Gibbs cannot take that accusatory look in Bishop’s wide eyes. He growls at them, and is surprised to see McGee’s eyes narrow angrily as he bites his lips to contain a retort.

A few minutes later, Tony returns. His tie has been stuffed into his jacket pocket, and his hair looks damp. He is deathly pale and wheezing audibly – Gibbs is shocked to see the base of the younger man’s throat suck in unhealthily deeply every time Tony inhales, but the younger man has chosen to pretend that nothing happened. Every inquiry as to how he felt was met with a raspy “I’m fine.”

Gibbs sighs. Unfortunate, but certainly not something he had wanted to happen. Tony waves everyone away wordlessly and slides back into his chair.

“I have a lead,” he wheezes. He drags himself out of his chair to stand in front of the plasma and begins pulling up information, explaining what he had found. Gibbs sends Bishop and McGee to bring in the suspect since Tony is obviously in no shape to go out in the field. Tony sits down, stifling a groan. Gibbs tries to send Tony down to see Ducky but the younger man obstinately refuses, insisting that he is fine. In the end, Gibbs goes to the break room and calls Ducky himself, requesting his presence in the bullpen, along with his medical bag.

“What’s happened?” Ducky wants to know.

“Tony’s wheezing badly.”

“I walked in with him this morning and there was absolutely nothing wrong with him! Did something happen?”

“He choked on something.”

“Is he breathing?”

“He’s not choking anymore. I won’t lie to you, Duck, it was a real bad one. Now he’s still wheezing and he looks like a leaf could knock him over.”

“Bring him down to see me.”

“He won’t go. Says he’s fine.”

Ducky mutters under his breath. “I’m coming Jethro. Keep him still and keep him calm. Stress can cause his breathing passages to constrict even more.”

“I’ll try, Duck.”

When Ducky turns up with Palmer and his medical bag, clucking at the state that Tony is in, those green eyes stare at Gibbs, dark and angry for siccing Ducky on him. Ducky ushers Tony down to Autopsy, Palmer keeping a hand under Tony’s elbow as they walk away. As they board the elevator, Tony glares one last time at Gibbs before he averts his eyes deliberately, his anger as palpable as a punch in the gut.

Gibbs sighs.

When Tony returns an hour later, there is more color in his face but he still looks a little fragile to Gibbs. There is still a trace of wheezing with every breath, and the hollow at the base of his throat still sinks in deeply with every inhale. Tony studiously ignores the older man and goes back to work, only speaking when he is spoken to and then only speaking about work. His voice is still hoarse and every so often he takes a puff of his rescue inhaler, not having the energy to drag himself to the men’s room to use it like he usually does on the very odd occasion that he has needed it in recent years. He hates this even more than the choking and wheezing itself, the inability to hide his need for the inhaler and to show weakness, even if it is to his own teammates. Each time he does this, Gibbs stares openly at him, his expression inscrutable. The third time he catches Gibbs staring at him, instead of averting his eyes guiltily, he glares back as if challenging the older man to say something. But Gibbs remains silent and does not look away.

When McGee and Bishop return with the suspect, Tony elects to continue the work on the research and paper trail rather than participate in the interrogation or watch it from observation. McGee is visibly worried at this development, even though Tony tries to assure him that he’s fine. Again, McGee flashes an angry glare at Gibbs, and during interrogation, he takes his anger out on the suspect, playing bad cop to Gibbs’ silent and menacing cop, and they break the suspect and get a confession out of him fairly quickly.

The rest of the afternoon is spent working on the paperwork to close the cold case. Every time Tony has to use his inhaler, McGee frowns first in silent concern at Tony and then in open disapproval at Gibbs. Uncharacteristically, Gibbs dismisses the team on time, enduring the glares from both Tony and McGee, and the quizzical looks from Bishop. Rebelliously, Tony stays an extra half hour puttering about, putting the finishing touches to his reports before printing, signing, and placing them on Gibbs’ desk.

Gibbs studies his senior field agent, who is moving with extra care, his physical discomfort still evident although at this point only those who know him well would be able to see it. Tony slowly packs things into his backpack, takes his time putting on his coat and scarf, tying the latter on securely rather than fashionably, ensuring that his neck will be protected from the cold, and gathers his gun and badge, aware that Gibbs’ eyes have been on him the entire time. He gives Gibbs a silent nod goodnight, shoulders his backpack and carefully walks to the elevator.

When Tony disappears behind the closed doors, Gibbs heaves a sigh of relief and closes his eyes. He reviews all the reports received from McGee, Bishop and Tony, signs off on them all and finishes his own paperwork before completing the submission. Usually he has Tony file the final submissions but tonight he decides to do it himself. Once this is done, he stops by Autopsy to get a report on Tony from Ducky, glaring at Palmer’s accusatory stare, and rolling his eyes at the disappointment received from Ducky. He knows that Tony would not have been the one to tell Ducky and Palmer the real story of what happened in the afternoon, so it would have either been McGee or Bishop.

Finally, Gibbs has had enough and breaks in, “Ducky, I’m a bastard. I get it. How’s Tony?”

Ducky stops in his gentle tirade, and frowns at the interruption. “His esophagus and larynx are inflamed and possibly abraded. The damage was caused by the choking. Because of this his breathing and speech are affected, he has to work much harder to breathe and oxygenate his body. His lungs cannot take this strain, Jethro, and we all know why this is so. He will be fine in a couple of days, but right now every breath that he takes hurts him, especially while it is this cold out. I’ve ordered him to only be on desk duty until I clear him. See that he obeys, Jethro.”

Ducky glares at Gibbs who sighs and nods. “Got it, Duck.”

“Perhaps you should look in on him tonight, Jethro. Make an exception to your rule about apologies.”

Gibbs glares at Ducky and walks away, ignoring the disgruntled snort. He is not going to look in on Tony, as if he were a child. Even if his behavior had been childish which resulted in the headslap-choking fiasco. He tries not to think about the fact that Tony had actually been working and coming up with a lead to close the cold case when it happened.

He skips going to Abby’s lab before heading out, figuring that he could do with one less person looking at him as if he has kicked their favorite puppy. Inasmuch as Gibbs is feared and beloved by his team, Tony has perhaps become even more beloved. Or perhaps Tony is regarded as slightly more fragile, which is ridiculous given the things that the man has gone through, not just surviving but even thriving through the challenges.

Gibbs tries to stop thinking about Tony. He drives home, changes, and snags a beer as he goes down to the basement to work on his boat. Try as he might, he cannot get the image of Tony clawing at his throat, unable to breathe out of his head. He cannot get into woodworking. After a couple of unproductive hours, he leaves the basement and settles in front of the TV with a sandwich, his bum leg propped up on the coffee table with an ice pack on his knee. He chews on the sandwich without tasting it, and flips through the few channels that he gets, unable to settle down. Watching TV reminds him even more of the green-eyed man who, even after all these years, seems to still be able to irritate, amuse, annoy and captivate him.

He pushes the sandwich aside. Finally, finally in the privacy of his own home, after stewing about it for a few hours, he covers his face with his hands, groaning to himself. What had he done? All because Tony was playing with a fucking straw? Sure, it had been a large straw, of a rather striking red color, but still. That infernal dimple, the sucked in cheeks, the amused grins, the twinkling eyes.

 _Stop thinking about it!_ He snaps at himself.

With a frustrated growl, he stands up, tosses the remainder of his sandwich and washes the plate. He goes back to the basement and after ineffectually working on the boat he decides to sweep the floor of sawdust and other woodworking detritus. Once he had the basement floor spic and span, he begins reorganizing his tools.

Finally he admits it to himself. He is trying to find things to do because he does not want to go and check on Tony. And the reasons why he does not want to go and check on Tony are many-fold, not the least of which is that Ducky asked him to do it.

Sighing, he gives in. He pulls on a jacket, grabs his keys, and pours a to-go cup of coffee. Interesting how although he had not planned to look in on his senior field agent, he has not had anything but one beer tonight. No excuses not to drive. Huh. So his subconscious had been planning for him to go all along. He mutters to himself, glad that there is no one to witness this.

When he gets to Tony’s apartment complex, he sees that Tony’s car is safely in its assigned space. He parks in a guest spot and heads in. He knocks on Tony’s door but nobody answers. Could Tony have gone out somewhere? Not on a school night, and not in the condition he had been in when he left work tonight, Gibbs thinks. He’d better not be passed out or worse in there, Gibbs thinks grimly as he keeps knocking. Finally he decides to use his spare key.

He lets himself in – the apartment is quiet, the living room dark. He sees a sliver of light coming from the underneath the bedroom door. Calling Tony’s name, he silently moves to the bedroom and pushes the door open.

Tony is lying, propped up practically upright with so many pillows on the bed, eyes closed, seemingly fast asleep, on top of his blankets. His bedside lamp is the only light on, casting a dim light across the prone man. A nebulizer mask is on his face, obscuring his nose and mouth, connected by clear tubing to the little machine that is still going at his bedside. Gibbs remembers the nebulizer, back from when Tony was recovering from the plague. He had spent enough time helping Tony with his nebulizer treatments all those years ago.

Tony still looks pale and exhaustion lines his face. He is shirtless, but has striped cotton pajama bottoms on. Gibbs runs his eyes appreciatively over Tony’s bare torso – he has become much more modest in recent years, no longer baring his flesh as readily as he used to. His shoulders are broad and muscled, his chest still golden and lightly hairy, his red-brown nipples peeking out teasingly, and his stomach is toned and lean. Gibbs tiptoes closer. Tony’s breathing seems better. Unable to stop himself, he lays the back of his hand on Tony’s forehead to check his temperature.

Tony’s eyes open and he jumps in fright, his heart pounding at the sight of the silver-haired man.

“What the fuck, Gibbs?” he squeaks, pulling earplugs out of his ears. Ah, there was the reason why he had not heard the knocking.

“Ducky said to check on you,” Gibbs tells him.

He begins to pull the mask off, but Gibbs stops him, replacing the mask and ensuring that it is on comfortably. He sits on the bed (when did Tony get a king sized bed?) and looks Tony up and down, making the younger man blush with his intense and open scrutiny.

“I’m fine,” Tony insists, his hoarse voice giving him away.

“You don’t look or sound fine.”

Tony glares at him, a silent but obvious _But who’s fault is that?_

He tries to speak, but Gibbs shushes him and tells him to wait until the nebulizer treatment is done. In the meantime he gets up and grabs a couple of beers from Tony’s fridge before bringing it back to the bedroom, and sitting back down on the bed. He slowly sips the beer, patiently waiting until the nebulizer treatment is over while Tony squirms and gets more and more self-conscious.

Finally he sets aside the mask, refusing to allow Gibbs to help him with it. He does accept the beer that Gibbs hands him.

“OK, you’ve checked on me. I’m fine. You can feel free to go now, with a clear conscience. I’ll tell Ducky you stopped by,” Tony says, his voice raspy.

“Ducky said your esophagus and larynx are inflamed, or abraded.”

“Well, that’s hardly a surprise, is it?” his hands are shaky as he sips the beer. He notices Gibbs noticing the tremors in his hands. “It’s the breathing treatment,” he says quietly. “Gives me the shakes.”

Gibbs nods. They sit there on Tony’s bed, drinking beer together.

“You know I don’t usually drink beer in my bed with someone until after we’ve had sex,” Tony tries to joke.

Gibbs’ lips quirk in a small grin but he stays silent, his blue eyes intensely watching Tony. Tony begins to feel uncomfortable and worried. Had he gone over the line with the joke?

“At least we’re not smoking in bed,” Gibbs says.

Tony grins in relief. “Really, Gibbs. I’m fine. Go home. I’ll be a bit wheezy for the next couple of days, and I swear to god I won’t drink bubble tea at work anymore, but I’m totally fine.”

“Desk duty, Ducky said.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Ducky is overly cautious.”

“I saw how you were today.”

Tony sips his beer, trying not to look irritated. “Look, I get it. I was annoying with the bubble tea. And it was just bad timing on my part with regard to the headslap. Can we just forget about this?”

Gibbs reaches out a hand and gently runs his fingers through Tony’s spiky hair. “It’s shorter than it’s ever been,” Gibbs tells him.

The green eyes on him are surprised and confused. “How much bourbon did you drink before you came here?”

“None.”

“None? So why are you saying such weird things? Where’s the real Gibbs?”

Gibbs sighs. “I’m sorry about today.”

Tony reaches out and feels Gibbs’ forehead. “Are _you_ feeling OK?” he asks carefully.

To his surprise, Gibbs laughs out loud.

“OK, so if you haven’t had any bourbon, did you have scotch, whiskey or I don’t know, crack cocaine?”

An amused grin. “Nope. Just coffee. And a couple of beers.”

“A couple or a couple of cases?”

Gibbs laughs again and drains his bottle. “Second beer of the evening.” He runs his fingers through Tony’s hair again. “I like it short like this. Looks good on you.”

“I’m not sure how to react to this,” Tony tells him. “I’m tempted to call Ducky.”

Gibbs sighs, looking regretful. “I didn’t mean to apologize to you.”

“Well, good, because I don’t like it,” Tony snaps at him, his eyes going from worried to annoyed again. “You _never_ apologize. Rule breaker,” He says accusingly, and purses his lips, flashing that damned dimple in his right cheek at Gibbs. Images of Tony sucking on the straw, wrapping his full lips around it, tonguing it are suddenly superimposed with images of Tony doing the same thing to certain parts of Gibbs’ anatomy.

Gibbs blushes at his train of thought, causing Tony to go from being annoyed to worried again. He scoots closer to Gibbs and feels his forehead and his cheek.

“You’re looking a little flushed but you don’t have a temperature,” Tony says. “What should I tell Ducky?”

“No Ducky,” Gibbs says, his voice husky.

And suddenly, Tony sees Gibbs' face. Really sees it for the first time. Gibbs’ blue eyes are dilated, his voice low and husky, his face slightly flushed. He’s not sick. He’s aroused. Tony is certainly an expert at detecting when someone is attracted to him.

Gibbs is aroused by him!

Tony’s eyes widen in surprise. Gibbs is aroused? By him? Since when? Not to mention, he’s not even looking his best. He looks down at himself, in his oldest, most comfortable, stripy pajama bottoms and no shirt. Hell, he hadn’t even taken a shower when he got home, deciding instead that lying in bed and recovering had been more important. And Gibbs is aroused by him?

Gibbs sees as understanding floods Tony’s face. Now both men are blushing. Tony stares at him in wonder, his breathing shallow and fast, and Gibbs can still hear the wheezing and see the sunken hollow of his throat at every inhale.

“It wasn’t that the bubble tea was annoying,” Gibbs finally speaks. Unexpectedly he feels the need to explain himself. “It was very distracting.” His voice has sunk even lower, even huskier. “I liked it too much. Your mouth on that damned straw.”

And even though Gibbs’ brain is screaming at him to stop, and that it was a terrible idea, and to immediately leave Tony’s apartment and never ever speak of tonight again, his body ignores him and he leans close and gently presses his lips to Tony’s. After a moment of shock, Tony submits and allows Gibbs to nibble on his bottom lip, run his tongue on it, and finally rewards him by opening his mouth and allowing Gibbs’ tongue entry. And boy, could Gibbs kiss! All thought flies out of Tony’s head as those lips, tongue and teeth are questing, tasting, nibbling on him. When Gibbs deepens the kiss, Tony moans into his mouth and allows Gibbs to pull him closer before he kisses him back, sucking on his tongue, smiling when Gibbs moans into his mouth, devouring him.

But sooner than he would have liked, Tony pulls back, wheezing hard as he tries to catch his breath and Gibbs is immediately filled with remorse.

Tony waves the concern away and pulls a rescue inhaler from his nightstand drawer. He takes a couple of puffs, all the while keeping a hold on Gibbs’ hand. Finally he looks at Gibbs again with a sheepish grin. “Bad timing,” he quirks an eyebrow and gestures with the inhaler, “but maybe you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out for a date with me, say in a few days? As soon as I’ve recovered from the bubble tea incident?”

Gibbs looks hesitant. “I thought you’d be upset with me.”

“For the bubble tea thing, well I was kinda peeved but I think I’ve gotten over that now.”

“No about the…”

“The kiss?” Tony smiles. “Have you met me, Boss? I’ve loved you forever. Didn’t think you had those kinds of feelings for me.”

“I do. I have. Long time now.”

“Huh. Well, on the plus side, we did get to know each other pretty well these past fifteen years. So our first date should not have too many scary surprises. Wait, did you say yes when I asked you out? I’m not sure you did.”

“Yes,” Gibbs smiles. “I’d love a date.”

Tony’s wide smile is brilliant, warm, and makes Gibbs feel like the most important person in the world. They end up making out a little more, and when Tony starts looking even more tired, Gibbs helps him to the bathroom and back to bed where Tony discards the pajama bottoms and crawls into bed naked. He grins at Gibbs.

“Wanna hold me while I sleep?” he teases.

“Don’t mind if I do.” And to Tony’s shock, Gibbs uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth (did Gibbs use Tony’s toothbrush?), undresses and slides under the blankets into bed with him, clad only in a t-shirt and boxers.

After a few more kisses, Gibbs tucks Tony’s head on his chest, his arms around the younger man, and with surprising ease, both men fall asleep.

When Tony wakes up, sunlight is streaming through his windows. Someone has turned his alarm off. There is a Gibbs-shaped depression next to him, but no sign of the man. Tony ignores his wheezy breaths, gets up and wanders around his apartment. Had he dreamt the whole thing? Other than the slight scent of coffee and sawdust in the air and the impression of a second body on his bed, there seems to be no sign of the man in his apartment. He spots a piece of notepaper on his coffee table.

 

_Tony,_  
_Your bastard boss said you can sleep in today (isn’t he nice?). Come in when you’re feeling up to it. I look forward to seeing you on Friday night. What time will you pick me up?_  
_Jethro_

 

Tony breaks into a wide grin. Flirty Gibbs is surprisingly charming. He goes back to his bed, sets up the nebulizer and gets comfortable on the bed with a book while going through the treatment. He replies to texts from McGee, Bishop, Ducky and Abby to assure them that he is fine and that Gibbs has given him extra time this morning. He tells Ducky he is definitely doing the nebulizer treatment. Finally, impulsively, he sends one more text.

At work, McGee is still giving Gibbs the stink-eye every time he glances at Tony’s empty desk. Gibbs stares blankly at both Bishop and McGee, refusing to explain anything. His phone chirps – a text message. Nobody texts him. He puts his reading glasses on, flips his phone open and squints at it.

_20:00 Friday. My bastard boss likes to keep me in the office late. Wear something pretty._

And to Bishop’s and McGee’s utter surprise, after Gibbs squints at his phone, he actually laughs out loud.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date and more.

When Tony walks in to the bullpen late that morning, he is all smiles. He is looking much better, albeit still not his usual pink of health. He waves Bishop and McGee away, smiling at them, touched by their concern. He does have to use his rescue inhaler fairly frequently, but he refuses to let anyone make a fuss. Ducky checks him over at the end of day and declares that he should be fine by the weekend which makes Tony grin cheekily, his green eyes sparkling.

The next few days pass uneventfully. Tony dutifully works at his desk with minimal complaint. By Friday he is no longer using his inhaler and seems to be quite normal. Ducky declares that he can resume field work on Monday. When Gibbs dismisses the team at 18:30, he declines McGee’s and Bishop’s offer of dinner and drinks, grinning impishly at them.

“Thanks, probies, but I already have plans.”

“How did you score a date when you were barely breathing all week?” McGee complains.

“Maybe she has a Florence Nightingale complex?” Bishop wonders.

Tony winks at them, and flashes a bright grin at his team. He tosses a casual wave to Gibbs, “Have a great weekend, Boss,” he calls as he leaves with Bishop and McGee.

In the elevator, McGee frowns at him. “I think you forgave Gibbs too easily this time,” he grumbles. “He really hurt you. Could have put you in the hospital.”

“It was an accident, McGoo. I’m totally fine. You guys need to get over it. I’m not that fragile,” Tony tells them. “I’m over it. You should be, too.”

“I don’t know how you can be so cheerful about it,” Bishop agrees with McGee. “What he did bordered on abuse, Tony.”

Tony laughs. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, probies. No harm, no foul. I’m fine, and if you have to know, he really felt bad about it.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“That’s between me and him, OK? Don’t be mad at him. I’m not anymore.”

McGee and Bishop stare at his open expression and finally nod grudgingly.

“Good,” Tony smiles. “Now I really do have to run. Enjoy your dinner! I’ll join you guys next time.”

“She’s got to be something to get you so smiley, Tony,” McGee says.

“Is she a keeper?” Bishop wants to know.

“How about a physical description? You’re usually full of them.”

“Suffice it to say, I have a super hot date,” Tony grins. “Bye McGee. See ya Bishop.”

Tony drives home, showers, and dresses with care. Dark jeans, dark green shirt (open collar, no tie – he’s been told that this shirt brings out the green of his eyes), dark jacket. His hair is short (he blushes, remembering Gibbs’ fingers running through it, telling him he liked it short), so he decides to leave off fixing his hair, letting it spike up naturally. Perhaps Gibbs will like running his fingers through his hair even more if it does not have any product in it.

He rings Gibbs’ doorbell a few minutes before 20:00. He has to wait several minutes and politely rings the bell again before Gibbs finally throws the door open, a scowl on his face.”

“Hello, Jethro,” Tony smiles at him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Gibbs’ cheek.

Gibbs’ scowl turns to confusion. “What the hell, DiNozzo? You know the door’s always open. I thought you were some salesman or something that I had to get rid of.”

Tony ignores Gibbs and hands him a small box. “For you.”

Gibbs goes from confused to suspicious, his eyes narrowing as he shakes the box gently. “Why did you ring the doorbell again?”

Tony looks Gibbs up and down appreciatively – the older man is dressed in dark slacks, stylish blue dress shirt that is tight across his broad shoulders, drawing attention to his chest, and one of his new suit jackets. “You wore something very pretty, Jethro,” he says huskily.

Gibbs gapes at him for a minute before he blushes. And then a shy smile. “Come in for a second,” he tells Tony, holding the door open and stepping aside. Tony walks in, wondering if perhaps his face would crack open with how wide his smile is.

“What’s this?” Gibbs asks him, shaking the box. It is surprisingly heavy.

“I was going to bring you flowers, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that,” Tony says, grinning cheekily.

Eyebrow raised in amusement, Gibbs unties the ribbon and pulls the box open. Nestled in a pile of soft tissues are antique hinges. He looks up at Tony, eyes wide.

“I thought you could maybe use that on your new boat somewhere,” Tony says softly.

“I definitely can,” Gibbs smiles. “Thank you.”

Tony’s face flushes with pleasure. “Plus you don’t even have to put them in water, or throw them out when they’re wilted.”

“Very considerate of you,” Gibbs tells him. “Let me get my coat on and we can go. We are still on for tonight, right?”

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready.”

Gibbs shrugs his coat on, grabs his keys and ushers Tony out the door. To his surprise, Tony holds his hand and escorts him to the passenger side of his car.

“You gonna open my door for me, DiNozzo?” he says sarcastically.

Tony smiles and opens the door. “I won’t help you in, how about that?” he says as he moves to the driver’s side.

Gibbs cannot help smiling back as he gets in the car. As they drive away, he asks “What are we doing tonight, anyway?”

“Dinner, then something fun.”

“A movie?”

“Way too predictable and normal for a first date with you.”

“So you’re not gonna tell me?”

“Way I look at it, I counted you calling me ‘DiNozzo’ twice already tonight, Jethro. So you can wait till we get there to find out what else we’re doing tonight.”

Gibbs tries to glare at him but he keeps smiling instead. “ _Tony_ ,” he says, exaggeratedly emphasizing Tony’s first name, “what are we doing tonight?”

“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

Gibbs huffs with laughter. “OK. But what if I want to go straight to dessert after dinner?” he says suggestively.

Tony flashes him a startled glance. He swallows audibly and blushes and is silent for a minute before he breaks into a grin. “You’re assuming I put out on a first date, Jethro.”

“I never assume,” Gibbs returns smoothly, “I always _verify._ ”

Tony’s blush returns at Gibbs’ husky tone. He clears his throat and grins back wordlessly.

“Where are we going for dinner?” Gibbs asks.

“The second best place for steaks in DC: The Adams House.”

“Second best? Why not the best? Don’t I rate the best steak in DC?” Gibbs teases.

“Of course you do. But then you’d have to cook it yourself. Cowboy steaks at your house, hands down, best steak in DC.”

It is Gibbs’ turn to blush again. “Maybe tomorrow night, I’ll make dinner for you. Cowboy steaks.”

“Are you already asking me for a second date?”

“I’m having a good time so far tonight.”

“So am I. Sure, dinner tomorrow night sounds good.”

They grin at each other.

“Maybe I’ll cook you dinner on Sunday night?” Tony suggests.

“Lasagna?” Gibbs sounds hopeful.

“If you like.”

“You haven’t made me lasagna in a long time.”

“I’ll have to rectify that,” Tony and Gibbs can’t stop grinning at each other. “Did I just commit to a third date in as many days with you, Jethro?”

“I believe you did.”

“Are we moving fast?”

“Depends – will you be putting out by Sunday?”

“Play your cards right, you can have this stunning package maybe even by tomorrow night,” Tony gestures to himself one-handed with a saucy grin.

“What if I asked you to turn the car around and head home right now cause I want that stunning package right now?”

They exchange a heated glance. Tony smacks his steering wheel in frustration. “Fuck,” he swore. “No, Jethro. I promised you a date. We’re going to dinner and then the fun thing.”

Gibbs laughs. “Fair enough. But maybe I can make you breakfast in the morning?”

Tony groans. “You’re killing me,” he swerves off the road, ignoring the honks and brake screeches of other motorists, barely places the car in park and pounces on Gibbs, leaning across the gearshift to kiss him hungrily. Gibbs opens up and they find themselves savaging each other, kissing so fiercely that their teeth clash together. Tony is moaning into Gibbs’ mouth, one hand cupped behind Gibbs’ head, the other holding his seat belt out of the way to stop it from strangling him, focused on the sensations of Gibbs’ tongue dueling with his. One of Gibbs’ warm hands is cupping the back of Tony’s neck firmly, pulling him closer, while the other has slipped under Tony’s jacket, stroking his chest.

Finally Tony pulls away, his breaths coming in short pants. He feels a certain satisfaction in the small whimper from Gibbs when he pulls away, and that Gibbs head moves involuntarily to follow his as he moves away. He shifts in his seat and has to adjust his pants to accommodate his erection.

He sits, panting and staring at Gibbs for a minute, wondering why he was so determined to take the foxy blue-eyed man out to dinner first instead of turning around and heading straight to bed. He shakes his head and clears his throat.

“Dinner,” he says determinedly. “This is a date. We’re going out. Stop seducing me, dammit.”

Gibbs, who is just as out of breath as Tony, just grins, trying to look as innocent as he can. “Fine, let’s go have the second best steaks in DC and this mysterious fun stuff afterwards.”

“You did dress up so nicely,” Tony tells him, leering at him.

They stare at each other for another minute before Tony takes a deep breath, adjusts his pants more, and puts the car in gear. When they are back on the road, Gibbs casually reaches over and places a large, warm, calloused hand on Tony’s thigh. Tony jumps and yelps as his head hits the ceiling of his car, and tries to glare at the older man.

“You look great too, Tony,” Gibbs tells him, his voice husky, his hand moving in lazy circles, inching up ever so slowly. “You always do. You always have.”

Tony swallows hard, gulping audibly. “Fuck,” he swore. “Are you this handsy on every first date?” Images of the mysterious redhead in the silver car from years ago suddenly flashes through his mind – had she been a lucky recipient of this treatment as well? Tony pushes away the sudden stab of jealousy.

“Are you complaining?” Gibbs fingers are moving ever upwards in gentle circles, rubbing Tony’s thigh as if he is a wooden rib of Gibbs’ boat to be sanded smooth.

“N-no,” Tony’s breath hitches, and he begins panting again. “But I’m going to crash this car if you’re n-not..” he breaks off, moaning when Gibbs’ fingers move to his inner thigh. “Fuck me…” he swears breathlessly, trying to contain the moans that are desperately trying to escape.

“That’s the whole idea,” Gibbs says softly.

Tony moans lustily at Gibbs’ words and his naughty fingers. He floors the gas pedal, beginning to drive like Gibbs, desperate to get to their destination before his resolve crumbles. He puts one hand on Gibbs’ hand, meaning to hold it at bay, but somehow he ends up pulling Gibbs’ hand right onto his rock hard cock and moaning breathlessly as the older man cups him through his pants and begins rubbing deliciously.

Gibbs can hardly believe that he is essentially giving Tony, his beautiful senior field agent, the man he has secretly loved and lusted after for so long, a hand job while Tony tries to drive them to a restaurant on their first date. When his fingers start on Tony’s zipper, the younger man groans and pulls his hand, holding it against his chest.

“I am not coming in my pants like a thirteen year old,” Tony says through gritted teeth. “Dinner. Fun. Then I am going to take you home, lock your fucking door, and suck your dick like you’re my bubble tea.”

Gibbs groans at that image.

“Like that, do ya?”

Gibbs nods, his face flushing.

“Good. Now, stick to the plan, Marine.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Gibbs barks.

They make it safely to the Adams House and Tony breathes a sigh of relief – no accidents! He valets the car and to Gibbs’ surprise, he unselfconsciously takes Gibbs hand as they walk into the hotel.

“Do you date a lot of men?” Gibbs asks when they are seated at their table.

Tony makes a face. “Maybe not a lot. And rarely actual dates.”

“Huh,” Gibbs says.

“You?”

Gibbs shrugs. “Like you, I guess. Not too many. And not real dates.”

“Good,” Tony smiles. “Because I may or may not have fantasized about you and me doing this for a very long time.”

“You fantasized about me?”

Tony leans forward, “Jethro, you’re seriously hot. I thought so from the beginning. And we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over the years, which only makes you that much hotter. Because I know you and know what you’re like.”

Gibbs’ pants are suddenly extra tight and his breathing hitches. Tony is one of those people who just oozes sex, just naturally a part of who he is. It isn’t even conscious most of the time, although he can dial it up or down as necessary. Over the years he has seen how when Tony focuses his attention (on a suspect, a witness, a waitress, a one-night stand) people crumble and become eager to please him. It isn’t so much that Tony flirts, although he is a huge flirt, but now that Gibbs is on the receiving end of this treatment, it’s that promise lurking beneath those amazing green eyes, that makes you feel special and attractive and sexy. His own good looks aside, it is how he makes you feel when he smiles, or pays attention, or flirts that makes him so successful at getting what he wants. Gibbs has to remind himself to breathe when Tony smiles at him, even as he curses himself for falling so quickly under Tony’s spell.

Dinner passes quickly as the two men flirt and banter with each other, and enjoy eating the second best steak in DC. Afterwards, as they walk out and await the valet bringing Tony’s car around, the younger man wraps his arm around Gibbs’ waist, rubbing soft circles on his side, and Gibbs finds himself reciprocating the embrace, feeling like it is the most natural thing in the world. Tony is babbling away like he normally does, waiting for Gibbs’ occasional grunts or comments.

Again he opens Gibbs’ door for him before heading to the driver’s side, tipping the valet and adjusting the seat – the valet had been significantly shorter than him. Gibbs laughs to see Tony scrunched up against the steering wheel for a minute and Tony grins at him.

“I like hearing you laugh,” he says huskily. “I’ll never get enough of that.”

Gibbs smiles and places his hand back on Tony’s thigh, to Tony’s agonized and arousing groan. “Is it time for dessert yet?”

“Fun thing first,” Tony moans out as Gibbs warm hand starts rubbing gentle circles on the inside of his thigh. “Fuck, that feels good. Who knew you’re such a tease…” he gasps.

“I have to get you back for the bubble tea and your treatment of that straw.”

“Is that…so,” Tony tries to stop himself from whimpering with need when Gibbs’ fingers ghost over his erection.

“I love the sounds you’re making,” Gibbs leans over and whispers in Tony’s ear.

Tony whimpers then, unable to stop himself. He keeps his eyes on the road, fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Resolutely ignoring Gibbs’ exploring fingers, he finishes the drive, moaning and whimpering occasionally, sweat beading his forehead. When he finally eases the car into a parking spot he leans back, opens his legs and allows Gibbs to unzip him and slip his hand in. Gibbs grins as he finds his hand directly on Tony’s hard cock – no underwear – and fingers the slit, feeling the pre-cum. He brings his finger to his lips and sucks on it, humming appreciatively.

Tony moans when he sees this – Gibbs licking pre-cum off his fingers is too erotic for words. “I’m too old to be jerked off in cars,” Tony moans, even as Gibbs pulls him out through the zipper and fists him. “Oh fuck yeah…”

Gibbs leans over and begins kissing him, deep, arousing kisses, as he strokes the hard dick, spreading the pre-cum to lubricate it and twisting the cockhead slightly, swallowing Tony’s growls and whimpers in the deep kisses.

Before Tony loses complete control, he stills Gibbs’ hand, swearing with disappointment. “I don’t want my first orgasm with you to be in the car,” he pants. “Please, Jethro.”

Gibbs smiles at him. “First orgasm, I like the sound of that. Implies more.”

“I really hope so.”

“Then let me finish you off and after the mystery fun thing I’ll drive us home and you can start on me in the car.”

Tony closes his eyes as Gibbs nibbles on his earlobe and presses wet, open mouthed kisses on his neck. Tony arches his neck, giving Gibbs better access, and bucks his hips when Gibbs returns his hand to his raging hard cock. He cannot remember the reasons why he is fighting this. Especially when Gibbs whispers a breathy “Please,” in his ear, the vibrations from Gibbs’ voice going straight to his dick like an electric shock.

Gibbs unbuckles Tony’s belt, undoes his pants quickly and pulls his dick out even more, exposing the heavy balls. “You’re gorgeous,” he says in Tony’s ear, making him shudder and his cock throbs in response. He spits on his hand and wets the hard shaft before wrapping his fingers around it and stroking it. Tony’s gasps and moans are deeply arousing, and Gibbs claims Tony’s luscious lips, as if trying to possess the sounds that he is making.

Even as Tony submits, he reaches a hand and begins caressing Gibbs’ erection, drawing a moan out of the older man. All the buildup of the evening is too much for Tony, he feels his orgasm approaching. He moans and swears, thrusting his hips into Gibbs’ hand. “Oh god, Jethro, yes, oh fuck, I’m gonna…oh yeahhhh…” he begins babbling, moaning, rubbing his hand even faster on Gibbs’ straining crotch. Finally he explodes with a strangled cry, semen arcing into the air, miraculously missing his pants leg. He leans back, panting harshly, his fingers continuing to idly rub Gibbs’ erection as Gibbs milks him dry then tucks him back in and does up his jeans.

“You are a _very_ naughty boy, Jethro,” Tony pants.

“I think I verified that you do put out on a first date,” Gibbs grins, breaking off to moan as Tony’s fingers keep working on him. Determinedly he takes Tony’s hand off and kisses it. “Later. Mystery fun thing first.”

“I need a minute,” Tony pants, closing his eyes and rubbing his face, trying to catch his breath. “Fuck. How is it you convinced me to do this in my car, in public?”

“I have a way with people.”

Tony glares at him. “Come on, let’s do this,” he gets out of the car and takes Gibbs’ hand again as they walk to the building.

Gibbs laughs when he sees what the activity is: they are at the batting cages, one that he has never been to. 

Tony grins to see his reaction. “You OK with helping me with my swing?”

“Definitely,” Gibbs smiles.

Even though they are perhaps the two more overdressed men at the facility, they definitely have a lot of fun. Both their coats and jackets are discarded in a heap, shirtsleeves rolled up, helmets securely on their heads as they take turns batting. Gibbs puts his hands on Tony, adjusting his stance, caressing his thighs as he moves the younger man’s feet into position. And in his turn, Tony also drives Gibbs crazy with little touches, caresses, whispered instructions into ears – stick out your ass more, wiggle it, choke up on the bat – his words caressing Gibbs almost physically. Tony is more relaxed, for obvious reasons, so Gibbs has to endure batting practice with a hard on, which makes Tony grin and find even more excuses to touch him.

Despite the distractions, both men are very athletic and continue to hammer away at the baseballs, the sound of balls impacting the metal bats punctuating their flirtatious banter. When they are leaving, Tony presses Gibbs up against the wall outside the facility, in the darkness, and kisses him until they are both breathless and Gibbs is grinding himself against the younger man, moaning helplessly.

“I think it’s time I took you home, Jethro,” Tony mumbles, his breathlessness having absolutely nothing to do with baseball. He snags Gibbs’ hand and pulls him to the car, bundling him into the passenger seat and jumping into the driver’s seat quickly. “Damn you, it smells like sex in this car,” Tony grouses.

“Are you complaining?”

“Hell no.”

“Hey, I thought I was driving us home? So you can distract me.”

“Buckle up. I am not distracting you, you are not distracting me. I’m getting us home as quickly as I can. And you’re inviting me in for a nightcap, Marine,” Tony orders him.

“Sir, yes sir,” Gibbs responds, grinning.

Tony drives home in record time, his driving style making Gibbs proud as the older man hangs on to Tony’s ‘oh shit’ handle.

“Looks like I rubbed off on you,” he says admiringly as Tony swerves around traffic expertly without reducing his speed.

Tony spares him a glance and a wicked grin. “You certainly rubbed me off, Jethro.”

When they get to Gibbs’ house, Tony jumps out of the car and is opening Gibbs’ door, yanking him out and slapping a kiss on him before they even get two paces from the car. Liplocked, bodies entwined, they somehow make it to the front door and inside where Tony tears his lips away from Gibbs to close and lock the front door. They stop and stare at each other for a moment, chests heaving, both of them hard.

For a second, doubt enters Gibbs’ mind. Should they do this? This will change everything about their relationship. But then, he’s already jerked Tony off in his car, so that’s definitely already changed everything.

Tony, ever attuned to Gibbs’ moods freezes for a moment. “Um, you’re not changing your mind, are you?” he asks. “Because if you really want to, I can wait till Sunday night and after our third date. For propriety’s sake. I’ve waited all these years for you, what’s a couple more days?”

“I don’t do casual, Tony,” Gibbs whispers.

“Neither do I, not with you.” Tony’s eyes are gleaming.

“Fuck propriety,” Gibbs mutters, and pulls Tony into a possessive and demanding kiss. Pulling away, he takes Tony’s arm and drags him upstairs to the bedroom where he rips the younger man’s clothes off and pushes him down on the bed. He strips himself naked and crawls on top of Tony, kissing him and groaning as their hardened cocks rub against each other.

They roll around on the bed, kissing, caressing, stroking, tasting, and nipping each other, until Tony turns them so he is on top, pins Gibbs’ hands on either side of his body and kisses him hard. Then he gentles the kiss, turning it tender and loving. “Slow,” he moans into Gibbs’ mouth. “Let’s go slow so we can enjoy each other.”

“I’m regretting getting you off in the car earlier,” Gibbs mutters, grinding his aching cock against Tony’s and moaning as Tony presses hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, sucking gently at the spots where Gibbs’ reactions tell him is most sensitive. He keeps Gibbs hands pinned down as he lovingly kisses down to his nipples, sucking, licking, nibbling, blowing on first one then the other before he releases Gibbs’ hands and kisses his way down, settling himself in between Gibbs’ legs.

“I promised you the bubble tea treatment,” Tony whispers, running his fingertips up the insides of Gibbs’ thighs, caressing the sensitive skin, running his fingers around Gibbs’ cock but not touching it, and then breathing his hot breath on it.

Gibbs moans and thrusts up. “Please,” he begs.

Tony smiles – he has never heard that tone of voice from Gibbs. He really likes it. He tickles the springy hair at the base of the man’s dick and moves his mouth close to the leaking cock. “Tell me what you want,” he says, his lips ghosting on the straining cockhead.

“You, please. You.”

“So you want my fingers on you?” Tony runs his index finger from the slit down to the base, following the vein.

“Yes,” Gibbs gasps. “More. Please.”

“How about my mouth?” Tony teasingly places the leaking cockhead in his mouth without wrapping his lips around it.

Gibbs jerks uncontrollably. “God, please! Yes! Please!” he moans desperately.

“My tongue?” Tony licks the underside up to the cockhead, licking the pre-cum.

“Fuck! Please Tony, please,” Gibbs begs. “Need you…”

Finally Tony wraps his lips around Gibbs’ erection and sucks. The older man arches off the bed, moaning, and his fingers find their way into Tony’s hair. Tony takes him all the way in, swallows around him, and begins bobbing up and down as his hand caresses Gibbs’ balls. Gibbs has to close his eyes, looking at Tony swallowing him down is too intense, and he doesn’t want this to end too quickly.

Tony has the same idea, he grasps the base of Gibbs’ cock, holding his orgasm back, refusing to let him get to his release even as he tortures the man. Finally, he slows down, kisses his way back up Gibbs body and draws him into a fiery open mouthed kiss. “I need you to fuck me,” he moaned into Gibbs mouth. “Please.”

Tony finds himself on his back and Gibbs begins kissing his way down his body, nibbling, tasting, torturing delicious gasps and moans from the younger man. He pulls a bottle of lube from his nightstand, lovingly prepares Tony, loving how Tony arches himself almost off the bed and half screams when he strokes Tony’s prostate. Finally, he lubes his cock, hardly believing his eyes at the beautiful man laid out under him, begging for him. He kisses him and pushes himself into the tight passage in one smooth movement, and they groan into each other’s mouths. After a moment, Tony wraps his legs around Gibbs’ waist and urges him to move. Gibbs begins thrusting, aiming for Tony’s prostate, trying for slow, hard thrusts but feeling Tony squeezing him tight and hearing the hoarse cries makes him lose control – he begins pounding hard, and stroking Tony’s dick. Tony moans and curses and whimpers, his hands pulling at fistfuls of bedding, and finally he goes over the edge, screaming Gibbs’ name. A couple more thrusts and Gibbs is right there with him, emptying himself into Tony’s body.

Long moments later, when they can breathe again, they lie entwined, sticky, and sated. Gibbs brushes kisses on Tony’s jaw and neck. He kisses the sweaty hollow at the base of Tony’s throat, glad that Tony’s breathing isn’t labored anymore.

Although his eyes are still closed and he feels languorous and slothlike, Tony’s hands are caressing Gibbs all over, unable to stay still. “On the other hand,” Tony begins conversationally, “you put out on the first date too.”

Gibbs cannot help himself and laughs out loud and kisses Tony deeply. “I do when it’s a first date fifteen years in the making.”

“There is that.” Tony sighs, his eyelids getting heavy. “Do you want me to leave? Or go to the guest room?”

“Stay,” Gibbs tells him. He gets out of bed and cleans himself and Tony up with a wet washcloth before sliding back into bed, pulling Tony onto his chest the way they’d slept that night in Tony’s apartment. “Good night Tony,” he says quietly.

“Gnight. I had a really good time tonight,” Tony mumbles sleepily, settling himself more comfortably against Gibbs’ chest and body, sighing with satisfaction. Normally, Tony is one of those people who tries to leave as soon as possible after having sex but he does not want to leave Gibbs’ bed or his arms. In fact he finds himself snuggling up as close to the man as he can.

“I had a good time too, Tony,” Gibbs kisses Tony’s head. And it was true. It had been the best date he’s been on since Shannon died.

“Love you Jethro,” Tony mumbles as he falls asleep.

Gibbs stays awake for a long time, his heart pounding at Tony’s declaration. Finally he whispers, almost to himself, “Love you too, Tony.” But it is a very long time before he falls asleep.

They spend the rest of the weekend together, running errands, making breakfasts and dinners for each other, eating lunch at the diner, holding hands when they are out, kissing and hugging and having sex at home. They swing by Tony’s apartment so he can pack clothes for a few days, including a couple of suits for work, and Gibbs feels good about seeing Tony’s clothes in his closet and drawers.

Gibbs is taken aback at the intimacy of it all, and that Tony – womanizer, unable to commit, king of one night stands Tony – seems to be more than comfortable with the intimacy they are sharing, not even sparing glances at good-looking women (and men) when they are out, having eyes only for Gibbs. Being the focus of all that sexual energy and love is heady and Gibbs is unsure how he came to be the lucky recipient of it, but he finds that he is not about to push it aside. He keeps recalling how in his drugged dreams, his daughter Kelly had told him to live. Tony DiNozzo is nothing if not a fireball of living energy.

Monday morning begins with Tony fucking Gibbs into the mattress, a shared hot shower and then driving to work in separate cars. With unspoken agreement they revert to being their usual Gibbs and DiNozzo, grizzly bear team lead and consummate senior field agent. Tony even flirts with the people they interview for the case that the team catches, working his magic to obtain information to solve the case as he usually does. Gibbs pushes down the jealousy and possessiveness he feels when Tony’s hand brushes his deliberately but discreetly as they head back to the car after processing the crime scene, and he realizes that Tony is trying to reassure him. The flirting meant nothing – it was only for work and his most effective way of questioning people. Gibbs responds with a gentle headslap, his fingers lingering in Tony’s hair to let him know he understands and is fine.

Tony grins when he sees the frown on McGee’s face at Gibbs’ headslap. McGee has become incredibly protective of him since he had been acting team lead during Gibbs’ recovery fom being shot in Iraq.

For the next few weeks, at work there is no sign that Tony has basically moved in with Gibbs, spending every night at Gibbs’ house, in his arms and in his bed, and that more and more of Tony’s clothes and possessions have been brought to Gibbs’ house. Neither man is brave enough to broach the subject of Tony moving in although they both try to ineffectually hint about it. McGee and Bishop only notice that Gibbs is much less bad tempered, and that Tony is more centered, but do not notice anything else different.

They catch a difficult case, one where they work non-stop for almost two weeks before they finally close the case. After too many nights spent sleeping behind their desks, the team is looking forward to getting a four-day weekend. They work hard on their reports before Tony, McGee and Bishop go out to lunch. When they return there is a see-through plastic container of bubble tea with a large red straw in it on Tony’s desk.

Tony’s eyes light up and he laughs out loud, immediately looking over at Gibbs. Gibbs’ eyes crinkle in that almost smile that he gets at work and he nods at the small note card propped up on the cup. Tony slides it out of its envelope.

 

_Move in with me._  
 _Love,_   
_Your bastard boss_

 

Tony breaks into a smile that takes away not only Gibbs’ breath, but also McGee’s and Bishop’s. They have never seen Tony look like this, as if he is in love. Tony looks at Gibbs, nods and mouths “Yes.” Then he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text.

When Gibbs’ phone chirps, he puts his reading glasses on and squints at it, before he laughs out loud.

“Yes,” Gibbs tells Tony. Then he takes hold of Tony’s wrist and drags the younger man into the elevator, leaving his phone on his desk.

Unable to stop himself, McGee scurries over to Gibbs’ desk and checks out the text message that obviously had been sent by Tony. He walks away quickly, confused and a little disturbed, refusing to go where he thinks his mind is going. Unfortunately the message keeps replaying itself in his head.

_Will you be my bubble tea?_


End file.
